


Teach Me To Play

by RunWithWolves



Series: 30 Days of Creampuff [18]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: 30DaysofCreampuff, F/F, Piano AU, requestweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunWithWolves/pseuds/RunWithWolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura needs free piano lessons so she turns to her friends. Perry assures her that Laf knows a musical prodigy. Laf is whipped so they call Carmilla. Carmilla owes Laf a big favour and has to say yes. </p><p>What Carmilla never expected was Laura Hollis to be the first person who didn't judge mistakes in the music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me To Play

**Author's Note:**

> This was literally the most detailed request I have ever gotten in my life from Aang here on ao3. Which is awesome. I'm sorry that I didn't fit everything in but I'm actually really happy with how this turned out. Hopefully it still catches the spirit of what you were going for. 
> 
> I mean, I have been listening to nothing but Clair de Lune for two days now and I printed off sheet music so I could practice playing it myself. So I promise the effort was there. :)

Carmilla’s fingers absently played up and down the piano, her fingertips stroking the soft keys without pushing down to create an invisible melody. Truthfully, her favourite kind. The kind no-one else could ever hear. 

“Um, hello?” a timid voice cut through the silent song. 

Rolling her eyes, Carmilla stretched her shoulders and turned towards the door. 

“Hi,” a young woman gave her a sunshine smile, bouncing on her toes, “You must be Carmilla?”

Carmilla leaned back against the piano, letting her elbows smack into the keys with a howl of discordant noise, “Must I be?”

The girl’s face bunched for a moment in displeasure and Carmilla let a smirk flash across her face. Adorable. 

The girl took another step into the room, hands on her hips, “Perry said that a Carmilla Karnstein was going to be meeting me here for lessons. Is that you or not? Because this won’t be the first time that I’ve accidently ended up in the wrong place and I’d rather not be late to where i actually need to be. I mean, I’m pretty sure that you’re her because otherwise why would you have a piano but…”

“Carmilla Karnstein,” Carmilla said to cut off the tirade, “That’s me. So cutie,” she gave the girl and obvious once-over, “you’re the bleeding heart who somehow talked Perry into free lessons?”

The girl dropped her bag on the ground, “I’m Laura Hollis,” she said, “you give mildly inappropriate nicknames to all of your students?”

Carmilla flashed the girl a wicked grin, “I don’t have any other students, sweetheart.”

“What?” Laura looked alarmed, “But Perry said that you could give me lessons. Cause I really need them but I don’t exactly have the budget to pay for them because, well, see, there’s this little girl,”

Carmilla was already getting a migraine, “Look,” she said, “I’m only here because Perry asked Laf to ask me, Laf is whipped, and I owe them a big favour. I don’t really care about why Perry decided you of all people need free lessons. She can’t have her actual staff take the time, which is why we’re stuck with each other. But I promise you, I’m more than qualified. So let’s just get this over with?” She slid over on the bench.

After a moment, Laura slid in beside her, mumbling, “Perry did warn me you were moody.”

Carmilla barked a laugh, “Perry was feeling generous then.”

Laura squinted at her like she was figuring out a puzzle. Then, she shrugged and smiled, “At least now I know you actually can laugh.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes and bite back a smile. She spun around to the piano, “So, cutie, please don’t tell me we’re starting from scratch here. Because I really don’t have the patience to teach scales.”

Laura’s hands immediately went to the keys. She shifted slightly, bumping Carmilla’s hip with her own as she slid closer to the middle of the piano. Then Laura began to play a simple up-tempo melody, all major chords with a pop beat poking underneath. 

Carmilla automatically cast a critical eye over her. Posture wasn’t bad, a little too slouched but nothing a concert pianist wouldn’t notice. Fingers were fluid enough. Carmilla cast her eyes down and felt a small smile slip out as she noticed the girls feet kicking slowly in the air, too short to firmly plant on the ground. 

“I played as a kid,” Laura said, drawing her attention back up, “it’s just been a while.” The girl was smiling at her as she bobbed her head along to the simple beat her hands were playing. 

Then Carmilla really noticed her hands and narrowed her eyes, “Cupcake, if you don’t get your wrists up then we’re stopping these lessons right now.”

Laura stopped playing, shaking her head with a smile, “You wouldn’t.”

Carmilla’s frown was serious, “you play with your wrists that close to the keys and you’re going to get tendonitis.” She looked up at Laura, “I can grit my teeth through your sloppy form and kicking feet and irritating lack of consistent timing but I draw the line at self-injury.”

The smile on Laura’s face slowly fell and Carmilla’s chest gave an uncomfortable twinge, “Oh,” Laura said softly, “Well, thanks I guess. I’ll watch that.”

Laura’s hands came off the piano, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Finally she asked, “Was it really that bad?”

Carmilla’s tongue felt heavy as Laura continued playing with her shirt. If she played like that mother would have rapped her knuckles a dozen times over, pointing out each mistake as it came. But truthfully, Carmilla knew that for the average person, Laura was more than adequate.

“Well, Laura,” she drawled out the name and was rewarded with a small smile, “I’m a broody perfectionist. Half of what I say is just for me.”

“And the other half?” Laura asked.

Carmilla gave her a slow wink, “That’s what’s going to whip you into shape cutie. If you’re up for the challenge?”

She hadn’t meant to make it a question but somehow she wanted to give Laura a choice. A way out. 

“Hell yeah!” Laura gave a small fist pump, smile returning, “Here.” She passed Carmilla a piece of sheet music, “I’ve got to learn to play this.”

Carmilla looked it over. It was an extremely simplified version of Clair de Lune. Crafty Perry, Carmilla was prepping the extended version of this for her next competition. Her last real chance. 

“Can you play it?” Laura asked. The girl was almost bouncing up and down beside her, vibrating the bench with her energy, “ I mean, I know you’re not a teacher but Perry said you were good so…”

Carmilla let her fingers answer for her. The simplification had changed the song to an easy four four beat. She mouthed the timing, one two three four. one two three four. Hitting each note precisely where it was meant. Playing softer exactly at the noted ‘p’ and going up to exactly the correct volume on the ‘f’. Then she stumbled, briefly missing the timing by maybe a quarter of a second. She winced internally, the memory of mother’s ruler on her fingers rebounding through her memory. 

Once the first mistake was made, the others followed. Carmilla fought to regain her timing. Focusing on the precision of the piece. one two three four. one two three four. Off by moment. Slightly too long a pause. Too slow on the sharp. 

She forced herself to finish the piece, jerking her fingers back as they hit the last note. That same heaviness in the pit of her stomach that she always felt when a piece was done. 

Other musician spoke of flying and of feeling their soul in the song. 

Carmilla just heard a broken beat. 

The warm press of a hand on her leg reminded her that she had an audience and Carmilla wanted to smack herself in the face. If Laura hadn’t been put off by her moodiness then she certainly wasn’t going to stick around after a fumble like that. 

“Wow!” Laura’s voice was not what she had expected. Carmilla looked over and Laura was simply grinning at her, “That was so cool. You just sat there and played it without even having to practice. I wish I could be that great! This is going to be awesome. I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher.”

Carmilla’s eyes locked on Laura’s, startled. She squinted slightly, looking for the sarcasm in the words or waiting for the comment. There was a always another a comment. Mother. Teachers. Reviewers. There was always a ‘but’. 

She couldn’t find any of that in Laura’s eyes. The girl was simply excited, her eyes twinkling at Carmilla as she cocked her head slightly to the side like she was seeing something that confused her. 

“What?” Laura asked, the word almost a laugh.

“That’s it?” Carmilla blurted. 

Now Laura really laughed at her, a light giggle that pierced Carmilla’s chest, “Seriously? The compliment wasn’t enough for you, so you need more?” She nudged Carmilla lightly with her shoulder, “Can’t have you getting a big head. You want more compliments? Help me learn to play this properly.”

Laura turned back to the piano, setting the sheet music against the backboard. Carmilla shook her head to clear it, and re-focused. 

#

They’d had 8 lessons and Carmilla was no closer to figuring out Laura Hollis and her relationship with piano. Lesson number two had started with Carmilla teasing Laura for wearing a Doctor Who shirt and had ended with Laura somehow making Carmilla show off fancy scale patterns up and down the piano. 

Lesson number three saw Laura faceplant into the piano with a groan as Carmilla called out her timing. Laura threatened to stake her teacher if she got out the metronome. Carmilla found herself smiling as she simply crept up behind Laura’s lowered head and started tapping out the timing on her back. Laura straightened and began to play. Timing perfect as Carmilla’s fingers danced across her skin. 

Carmilla pretended not to see Laura’s goosebumps at her touch. Laura gave her the same curtesy.

It was lesson four that made Carmilla realize what was so baffling about Laura Hollis. Mistakes. The cutie made them often and frequently but each time she’d simply give a small giggle, bunch her nose, and try again. Sometimes the melody would dissolve into something else entirely as Laura’s fingers wandered off the beaten trail. Carmilla looked over to remind her of what they were supposed to be playing and immediately close her mouth. 

Laura’s whole face seemed to glow as she gently swayed to the music. Glossing over improper sharps and strange timing patterns like they weren’t even there. She would get so far off the music that Carmilla would feel herself drawn closer, touching her leg against Laura’s on the bench. As if the contact could help Carmilla fly away with her. 

Worried that she would pull Laura down. 

But Laura never seemed to mind. She smiled, a light blush covering her cheeks and quipped about Carmilla keeping her grounded. 

Lesson five somehow found Carmilla playing a piece for Laura. Pachebel’s Canon wasn’t even mildly close to what they were suppose to be learning. But Laura had asked and Carmilla found herself curious. 

So she’d allowed herself to play before the audience of one. Trying to play in a way that would genuinely make Laura impressed. Carmilla kept her back straight and mouthed the timing as she played, determined to stay on the beat. Exactly as mother had taught her. 

Her ears caught 7 major flaws. 

Laura had smiled and called it flawless. Then she’d laughed and asked if it would help her own playing to mutter the timing and sit as still as Carmilla did while she played. It had only taken a moment for Carmilla to image the sunshine that was Laura Hollis sitting ramrod still and getting rapped across her knuckles with a ruler to know it was a terrible idea. 

Lesson six was when Carmilla finally lost her cool about Laura’s hands, watching as the girl’s wrists slipped lower and lower. Finally, Carmilla stood stopping Laura mid-piece and hoisting her to her feet. She maneuvered Laura to stand behind the piano bench and then hopped around to sit in front. Before she could think through what she was doing, Carmilla arched her hand on the piano. Reaching back with her free hand she grabbed Laura’s arm and pulled it across her own, settling Laura’s fingers on top of hers.

“You feel that cutie?” Carmilla snapped, “that is what a hand is supposed to feel like. Like you’ve got an egg trapped under your palm.”

There was silence.

Suddenly Carmilla was very aware of what she had done. Laura’s arm was draped over her own, every inch of the limb connected to her own. The girl’s breath hung softly in her ear through the silence and Carmilla’s own breath caught as Laura’s chest brushed against her bare shoulder. 

“You feel that,” Carmilla muttered again, voice huskier than she’d intended.

“Yeah,” Laura’s word ghosted next to Carmilla’s ear. There was a pause. Then Laura softly said, “What about the other hand?”

Silently, Carmilla raised her other hand to the piano arching it perfectly. Laura’s hand ran slowly down her arm, caressing her skin, until it came to rest on her hand. The two cupping each other perfectly.

Laura’s whole body was draped over Carmilla to make the reach work and Laura’s chin slotted into the grove of Carmilla’s neck. She could feel the rapid patter of Laura’s heart on her back and inhaled sharply. The action moving her head just enough to send her cheek rubbing slowly across Laura’s. 

Carmilla wondered if breathing was really necessary. Cause she certainly wasn’t doing it. 

They held the position for moment, Carmilla waiting for Laura to step away. 

She didn’t.  
Carmilla swallowed hard and whispered the words, not needing anything more with Laura’s ear so close to her mouth, “You know, they say this is one of the best ways to learn.”

“Teach me,” Laura said immediately the tone and words pulling on something low in Carmilla’s gut. 

With Laura’s fingers still draped over her own, Carmilla began to play the simplified song. Laura’s weight was light but firm, allowing her the mobility to move swiftly across the keys but every touch was distracting enough to keep her from focusing too closely. 

A mistake in the timing drew her back in, Carmilla tightening her hands reflexively but a quick squeeze from Laura, who knew the piece as well as she did at this point, kept her moving past it. 

The timing that she still mouthed as a one two three four one two three four, distorted slightly, Matching the beat of Laura’s heart on her back. 

Carmilla couldn’t quite bring herself to care. 

Lesson seven was full of giggles from Laura and Carmilla found herself giving small smiles back. 

Lesson eight saw Laura press a kiss against her cheek before running out the door. 

 

#

There were two cupcakes sitting on the top of the piano. To celebrate their last lesson. Carmilla may have stopped by Perry’s to ask the music teacher what Laura might like.

While Perry had only smiled kindly and mentioned baked goods, Laf had got this crowing look on their face that Carmilla knew she be paying for in teasing later. 

Still, Laura had lit up when Carmilla had presented her with the treats. 

She’d even gotten another glimpse of that cute bunched up face when she’d mention that they were not for eating until after the lesson. 

When Laura finished the piece of the last time, she immediately snatched the cupcakes off the piano, giving one to Carmilla and forcing her to toast them to their success.

Carmilla couldn’t keep the smile off her face even as she rolled her eyes. She was desperately trying to ignore the fact that, after today, she wouldn’t be seeing Laura again. 

They sat on the piano bench, pressed thigh to thigh despite having the room to move apart as Laura spoke of family and friends and everything Carmilla knew was good in the world. 

“Hey Carm?” Carmilla looked over, trying to figure out when she’d acquired the nickname but getting distracted by the blush on Laura’s cheeks.

“What’s up, cupcake?” She drawled. 

“Well,” Laura bite her lip. Carmilla braced herself for the flood that always followed the action, “I’m actually going to be playing this tomorrow afternoon. You know, the whole reason I’ve been doing this. And I was you know, wondering, I mean, assuming you’re not busy or anything, if you wanted to come.” Carmilla raised an eyebrow. Laura looked up and continued, “I mean, you totally don’t have to and i totally get it if you’re busy but i just thought that you put all this work into me and you’re not getting paid. So you know. Maybe I can buy you a coffee after or something to say thankyou. But I’d just really like it if you were there.”

Laura looke so cute, staring down at her cupcake like it held the secrets to the universe, that Carmilla let the smile explode on her face, “Where am I going, cupcake?”

#

Carmilla could not have felt more out of place if someone had dumped her in the middle of the Sahara Desert without a map. The place was swarming with small children. They were racing around the room with shrieks of high pitched laughter. Huddled all over the floor with blocks and toys sprawled across the room. Shouted at a tv screen as some kids played some sort of smash them up video game. 

If she didn’t look to closely then it was easy to forget why they were all here. Carmilla always looked closely. Judge others before they judge you. See their mistakes before they catch yours. They’re always watching

Better be quick. 

The number of bald heads and baseball caps was the first indicator. The little boy trying to run through the room on a pair of crutches. The girls with permanent tiny tubes stuck in their arms leading to hidden pouches. 

Some of these kids were dying. She could see it in the colour of their skin and the gauntness in their eyes. 

Carmilla took a step back, hand blindly reaching behind her for the door as the memories started to wash over her. Other too skinny arms. Other tubes. Other balding heads. She ran through her own head, looking for doors to lock and windows to slam closed before the memories could come back. 

Feeling nothing was better than feeling that. Feeling this. 

And yet, as Carmilla was slamming closed the last mental window, a giggle slipped under the window sill and poked her in the chest. Tentatively she stopped to listen. Eyes closed. 

The room was full of laughter.

Carmilla left the imaginary window open a crack and the sounds washed over her. Excited voices and competitive taunts and giggling children.

It sounded like living, not dying.

So she opened her eyes and looked again. The children running through the room in a game of tag had smiles on their face as they helped the boy on crutches through the room. Baseball caps were easily swapped between bald heads as the owners cheered for the video game players. Little girls with tubes in their arms giggled as they drew fancy swirls and flowers across their skin. 

Or big girls. 

She was right in the middle of the room, giggling with the rest of them as a small girl in a tutu with a tube up her nose and a large silver canister beside her drew a picture on the marginally larger arm. Laura Hollis. Cupcake extraordinaire. 

Her hand paused on the doorknob, watching Laura giggle as the small girl drew a multi-coloured rainbow across her arm. 

Carmilla tried to call her name but her throat was still raw, too afraid of the words and memories that would become real if she said them outloud. 

Somehow, Laura still seemed to hear her.

The cupcake’s head bobbed up and Carmilla’s grip on the doorknob loosened as Laura’s smile beamed over at her, “Carm!”

Laura got to her feet, hoisting the little girl and the metal canister up and onto her hip. They wove their wave over to Carmilla. The hoard of children parted around Laura with laughs and familiar calls that Laura happily returned. 

When she got to the door, the little girl blatantly stared at Carmilla and immediately asked, “Are you the piano lady that Miss Laura thinks is pretty?”

If anything was going to bust open the doors Carmilla had just slammed closed on her emotions it was apparently a five year old in a tutu, a pointed question, and a bright red Laura. 

Carmilla took her hand off the door knob and let out a full smirk, “Well I’m definitely the piano lady but I don’t know about Laura thinking I’m pretty.”

The little girl nodded, “She said you were.”

“Cassie,” Laura moaned, “that’s a little out of context.”

“So you don’t think I'm pretty, cupcake?” Carmilla said.

If anything, Laura turned redder, “To the piano!” She shouted, spinning around to walk back across the room.

Smiling, Carmilla ambled after the hoard of children that were following Laura like she was the pied piper. 

They all moved into the next room where Carmilla immediately noticed the beat-up old piano sitting in the corner. The children dropped to the floor and, with a shrug, Carmilla dropped down to sit cross legged behind them. 

Her lap was immediately full of small child. Cassie, the little girl with the tutu, plopped herself into Carmilla’s lap like she’d sat there all her life. Her bones seems so small and fragile as Carmilla’s hand instinctively enclosed the little girl. 

She shimmied slightly, turning around to look up at Carmilla without the tubes in her nose slipping away. She smiled brightly, “I want to sit with you because you taught Miss Laura how to play.”

Carmilla nodded, realizing she had no choice in the matter. 

“This is my favourite song,” Cassie said with the serious face only a child could make, “so Miss Laura promised to play it for me because the Doctor said that I don’t have enough time to learn to play it myself unless I get a miracle.”

Carmilla’s heart clenched. Seeing a different girl with a different face and not enough time to do the things she wanted to do.

Cassie snuggled in closer, burying herself in Carmilla’s chest as Laura sat at the instrument, “That’s okay though. Miss Laura promised that she’d learn to play and it never forget it and she always keeps her promises.”

Carmilla couldn’t tell whether to smile or cry. If only everyone had a Miss Laura. She just took the little girl’s hand in her own and whispered, “If you get your miracle, I’ll teach you how to play myself.”

Cassie looked back up, “Are you good?”

“yes,” the word slipped off Carmilla’s tongue, unexpected, “Almost professional. I just can’t quite put the music together. There’s too much to think about.”

The little girl giggled, “You’re not supposed to think about music silly, you feel it.”

Laura started playing, winking down at the children as she did so.

“What if I don’t know how to anymore?” Carmilla whispered.

Cassie shrugged, her eyes now locked on Laura’s slowly swaying form. 

When the last of children had gone with their parents, Laura took her by the hand and dragged her to an ice cream shop. Completely ignoring Carmilla’s feeble protests that she really had to get home and not frivolously waste time. 

Laura had just squeezed her fingers and whispered the word, “Please?”

They’d ended up on a park bench watching the stars as ice cream cones melted in their free hands. Fingers still locked together. Silent. 

Carmilla smiled.

When the evening ended and she walked Laura back to her apartment Carmilla took a chance, “So, cupcake,” she said, as Laura turned to face her, “today was your performance but, if you’re not busy.” Carmilla stuttered over her words, rubbing her sticky fingers onto her jeans, “would you like to come see mine?”

She looked up just in time to see Laura’s chocolate brown eyes before soft lips grazed over her own. 

#

Carmilla put her fingers on the keys. Two notes. She’d played this song a hundred times. Same two notes started the piece every time. Her mouth mumbled the timing. one and a one and a one and a. 

But her fingers were stalled

She could hear the rustles in the crowd. Questions of stage fright and choking and murmured confusion would be running through their minds. 

Then she breathed. 

Carmilla took a breath and let it all fade away. 

Hesitantly she hit the first note. Soft with twinge of melancholy. A whisper of a sound. Her fingers transitioned to the second note, knowing what to play even if her brain couldn’t catch the muscle memory.

She kept her lips still. Closed. 

Her fingers caressed the next few notes. 

Such a seemingly simple sequence of flats. But they were so quiet and peaceful. She’d never noticed before. They were a whispered prayer and a butterfly kiss and a hand held in the dark of night where no-one but the stars could see you. 

She forgot to count the timing. 

Carmilla felt the pauses in tempo that had once seemed so awkward. So necessary to control and count. They weren’t. They were real. Life was not a hundred hours worth of trekking forward and meticulously watching the keys. Life was the moments between the moments. The pauses were not something to be accounted for in the tempo. they were the melody. Pauses saying as much as the notes. 

The piece transitioned beyond the slow, confident interplay of pauses. The sequences the that her fingers had just gotten familiar to transitioned into something faster. Something more unexpected. A babbling mouth and shining eyes. A smile where she’d expected mocking. A smile that rolled on and on. Like the notes. 

The piled on top of each other. each one running into the next until the difference between them was impossible to find. Her fingers flew, exploring every divot and crevice of the piano as though she'd never touched it before.. 

Singing across the high notes. 

As the pace quickened she started to lean forward, eyes locked shut. Her left hand was high up in the trouble notes. Moving so quickly as to as to be words tripping over each other until they became colours in radiant hue. A mix of swirls, like a Picasso painting desperately trying to catch the twinkle of the sky as they ebbed and flowed through the night.

They were the colour, the darkness, the richness seen in someone’s eyes when you were allowed to really look. Every aspect of humanity rolling together. 

Carmilla saw chocolate flowing into a golden twinkle.

And the rolling of the notes was the laughter of children. Sick or otherwise. The left hand moving so quickly that the laughs seamlessly flowed into one song as the right hand played on top of it. 

The only giggle that she could hear over the others. The one that drew you into the piece and stole a piece of your heart as it carried on its way. 

Then the two parts of the piece came together as she entered the final portion, the silent pauses of the first segment colliding with the rapid flow of the second, so that each flurry of notes was followed by the bliss of comfortable. Carmilla saw pales hands clasped beneath a blanket of stars and the silence of saying nothing out loud and everything inside. 

The piece slowed further. But now the notes dropped from their high, inaccessible flying to something lower, mid-tones. More realistic. Something whole and real with just enough bass clef to be grounded and treble clef to fly. 

As she climbed towards the ending the notes continued to rise, still skipping through the pace of breaks and flurries. The two perfectly complimenting each other to create something that stole Carmilla’s breath and felt more familiar than she had ever dared to dream. It was beautiful and she could not have told anyone if the piece was full of mistakes or missed notes because every note sounded right as her brain let them each slip by. The mistakes seamlessly flowing into the melody until they hardly felt like mistakes at all. 

The song built to the end with a broken scale that still managed to climb all the way through then notes. Ending on a lingering high point that left Carmilla wanting to play more. To break from the music and add her own notes. 

Instead she froze at the piano. Vaguely she could tell that there was a cacophony of noise filling the room to surround her. A thundering rumble. But she ignored it, staring down at the keys. Shocked as she rummaged through her mind and found all the doors and windows still open to the world. 

There was calm. Of a job well done. Of something in her soul that seemed to spring to life and applaud her for simply finishing something so real and true and something that was all hers and yet shared. 

She lifted her hands from the keys but took the feeling with her, finally standing to search the crowd for the other half of the song. 

The whole room was standing so it was easy to find her. The girl in the red dress sitting in the box seat, leaning onto the railing as everyone stood around her. Laura’s hand was to her mouth and as she stared at Carmilla, Carmilla had the vague impression that Laura wasn’t aware of the tears running down her cheeks. Instead, Laura’s eyes were shining and her mouth was slightly open but still somehow smiling like the music was settling deep inside her soul. 

Laura’s smile only grew as Carmilla held her gaze and Carmilla couldn’t help but return it. Feeling nothing but the rise and fall of fluttering notes and perfect pauses. 

She didn’t even look at the judges. 

And it was only when Laura lifted a hand to her cheek later that evening and gently caressed Carmilla’s face with her thumb did Carmilla realize that she too had been crying.

**Author's Note:**

> This one got personal.
> 
> Request Prompt (shrunk): Ang - Oooh. Okay, request: Carmillla is a pianist or cellist, but like, legit musician-level. Like, could be next big thing, but can't quite find the motivation and/or effort to make it to the next step.
> 
> Creampuffs, you are being so kind and nice and please know that I appreciate everything so much. I read every review, save emails telling me that I have kudos, and grin at every tumblr stop in (http://ariabauer.tumblr.com/) and always check out your blogs. Writing is extremely emotional and very tiring and takes a lot of time and I know I wouldn't still be writing these if it weren't for all your kindness. So thank you.
> 
> This is the eighteenth story of '30 Days of Creampuff' where I'll be posting a Carmilla fanfic chapter every weekday for 30 days.
> 
> Stay stupendous, seriously. Aria.


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